


wrong way, on a broken street

by Oliraki



Series: if i had one wish [2]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mutual Pining, headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 18:55:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20953289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliraki/pseuds/Oliraki
Summary: Jaren Ward blends into the crowd, once by choice, but now by necessity. He walks the streets unnoticed, unmentioned - until he meets the eyes of a Titan from across the camp.It all escalates from there.





	wrong way, on a broken street

**Author's Note:**

> I've starved all of you long enough. This one is full of my personal headcanons and it's probably a little bit of AU in some cases, but I'm taking this series into a certain direction and it'll make sense at some point. Hopefully

Jaren Ward could count the times he had been noticed with one hand.  
  
It wasn’t often that someone paid attention to him when he didn’t try to gather it. Those times, he usually slipped out of sight, weaved his way between the masses with soundless steps and a bit of sleight of hand that always managed to get the attention off of him. It had become a habit to avoid attention he didn’t want, especially _ when _ he didn’t want it — an unwanted spotlight was always dangerous, but in the middle of other trigger-happy Risen it was even _ worse. _   
  
So, he learned. He learned the layout of the refugee camp, what spots were often used and what were avoided. He learned the people, their small habits and customs, cataloguing away what he could use and discarding anything he couldn't — he learned how to use and how to be used.   
  
Later, when the City Walls were raised, Jaren couldn’t help but to think that maybe he had become a bit _ too _ efficient.   
  
The Void came easy to him, now. It’s whispers were loud in his ears while the cold was heavy in his veins, and he realized it would be so easy to stray too far and drown in it — one misstep and he could lose the shore, never to be seen again. Though he was aware of it now, it was difficult to suddenly drop a century’s worth of habits and skill. He didn’t know how to let himself be seen, after all this time, and thus he stayed hidden.   
  
And then the _ hero _ noticed him.   
  
Jaren thinks it’s a mistake, at first. That somehow his talent has slipped enough for someone to notice him — he doesn’t know if he should feel annoyed or relieved by it, but then he realizes that it is not a miscalculation in his skills. People still walk past him as if he is not there, paying him no mind, even while the so-called hero meets his gaze as well as he can, despite the helmet.   
  
Rezyl Azzir, the hero of these people, sentinel of the Walls. A Titan that sees past the Void clinging to Jaren’s shoulders, cares enough to pay attention to hints that are often missed. He ignores the attention at first, the best he can, but Rezyl does not approach even when he makes it clear that he _ knows _ where Jaren is — soon, the Hunter grows irritated by the attention and approaches the man instead.   
  
“Is there something you want?” The helmet hides the bothered expression Jaren is certainly wearing, but it’s obvious in his voice. He could keep civil, could use a little charm and a few pretty words, but Jaren is not here to _ appeal _ — he is here to challenge and that has to be obvious, going by the way the Titan pushes off of the wall and breaches his personal space.   
  
Jaren refuses to flinch, even as he takes inventory of the man’s weapons that are in easy reach. He squares his shoulders, wraps deft fingers around the hidden hilt of a knife and waits for the next move — only for the Titan to huff, obviously amused, as he steps past him.   
  
_ No. But it is cute that you think so. _   
  
The people speak of Rezyl Azzir as if he is a god amongst mortals, as if he could and would single-handedly bring destruction upon all of humanity’s enemies. They say he is quiet, steadfast, watching over their shoulders like a vengeful angel but never joining the fray unless some greater being deemed it worthy. They say Rezyl Azzir is a _ hero. _   
  
As Jaren turns, Void still clinging to his shoulders and making him nigh invisible to the people around him, he scoffs in disbelief. No, he thinks. Rezyl is as human as the rest of them. 

* * *

Their first meeting isn't the last.

Out of spite, Jaren learns to ignore centuries worth of habits and near paranoia. He leaves the City and enters the forests, doing his best to draw the attention of the nearby Fallen onto himself — danger and adrenaline have always been great motivation to learn something new. He stays until he has the Void fully under control, until he can shake the feel of it away under a moment's notice. 

Then, Jaren returns to the City.

The Crucible had never been of great interest to him, only an easy way to vent his restlessness and pass the time. Now he enters it with determination and plays the game with new tricks — he loses more often than he wins, at the start, as he tries to grow used to a new fighting style that is more focused on precise control, efficiency, than pure power. He refuses to spend any more Light than necessary.

Slowly but surely, Jaren starts to climb the ranks. He separates the sudden fame from himself with a different name and makes sure to always disappear after every match before anyone can corner him for questions, for threats, he doesn't know. He doesn't _ care. _Jaren is a Hunter — a Hunter that has a goal driven by pettiness. He won't rest, refuses to let his focus slip, until he has met it.

When Jaren faces Rezyl in the Crucible for the first time, he feels giddy.

It's been a long while since he's felt motivated enough to do something like this. A Lightbearer's life is easy most of the time and the few challenges there are quickly lose their thrill when faced with immortality. It's one of the reasons why Jaren thinks it's not a good idea to take a bunch of Risen and stick them in one place — they're volatile, trigger happy, always trying to get rid of their restlessness with any means necessary. He would know.

The Crucible is both a great idea and the worst one someone has ever made. It's a delicate little thing and so many of the Risen who play it are balancing on a thin line — once, Jaren scoffed at the idea of joining the fray.

Now, as Jaren buries a knife made of Void into Rezyl's throat, he realizes that he's selfish — he met his goal. After months of self-isolation in the name of _ training _ , of wrestling his Light perfectly under control, he'd made other people besides this Titan see him. Made it clear to Rezyl that he could and _ would _ do it, proved that _ he _ was in control of himself, not his Light — he made his point, gave evidence that supports it. There is no need to continue it.

Jaren is selfish because he does not want to give this up.

When Rezyl ressurrects on the other side of the room, facing Jaren, he's without his helmet. That itself is enough to make it clear to Jaren that he's been recognized. Rezyl's expression is carefully neutral, save for the taunting rise of an eyebrow, but his eyes… They're bright. Excited at the prospect of a new challenge, of finding someone who can keep up with him and Jaren _ yearns. _

For the first time in his life, Jaren Ward stays after a match.

* * *

It becomes a game for them.

Sometimes, it's Rezyl who corners Jaren in the City. They exchange words without revealing anything, keep the conversation civil to the outside eye with threats hidden between the lines. They avoid touching outside of Crucible, turning to subtle taunting when they're outside the arenas.  
  
Other times, it is Jaren that hunts Rezyl down in the wilds. He never strays too close, always gone by the time Rezyl even thinks of searching for a way to reach him — sometimes, he interrupts a fight by weaving Void Light between his fingers, by drawing an invisible string taunt only to release it with no sound whatsoever.   
  
He retreats every time the tether hits its mark. And it always does.   
  
One day, their game turns from a morbid version of hide and seek into a complicated form of tag. Rezyl claims the first win in Jaren’s own camp, when he tugs the Hunter into a bruising kiss and pushes him against stone, makes him undone. Jaren gets the second, when he drops down to his knees and drags it out long enough to make Rezyl lose his control.   
  
The rules have changed, but the game is far from over. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, as always!


End file.
